


sunshine riptide (i'm stuck in the)

by teacupfulofbrains



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, LAMP/CALM - Freeform, M/M, Multi, and we love them : ), because i am weak, logan is tired and snuggles with his boyfriends, logan the useless gay, logan-centric because i love him, polyamsanders - Freeform, shocking i know!!, soft fluffy gay shenanigans, that's it that's the fic, there's no angst!!, title from sunshine riptide by fall out boy, well they're all useless gays actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 03:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupfulofbrains/pseuds/teacupfulofbrains
Summary: Logan has always woken up at the same time every morning to the same dull alarm clock. It’s boring, but predictable, and Logan likes predictable.Then he gets three boyfriends, and the routine is gone, and that’s not so bad.(OR: soft sleepy Logan-centric LAMP shenanigans bc i am weak)





	sunshine riptide (i'm stuck in the)

**Author's Note:**

> still working on the lovely, dark, and deep update but here have some soft fluffy loving boyfriends  
> *YEETs the fic at y'all and disappears into the writing cave*  
> also this fic is lowkey dedicated to my lovely tumblr wife riley ([@backatthebein](https://backatthebein.tumblr.com)) because she needs some fluff in her life rn (ily BABE) 
> 
> (tw: none!!)

Logan is used to waking up to the shrieking of his alarm. It’s a series of monotonous beeps that steadily increases in pitch and urgency the longer the alarm is allowed to ring. Logan likes the predictability of his mornings, even though waking up is less than ideal. He takes comfort in his routine. It’s boring, sure, as most of Logan’s days tend to be, but it’s familiar. It’s comforting. 

Logan likes familiar. He likes knowing what everything is and where everything is and why and how and when everything is. He likes order, he likes structure, he likes anything that will keep the chaos at bay. He likes routine. He likes his schedule. He likes the way things are. 

When Roman confesses to them, to _all_ of them, in the middle of the mindscape (in the middle of the night, no less), everything changes. 

At first, Logan doesn’t know how it could possibly work. He accepts their affections, of course, because he loves them too. (He doesn’t think he can remember a time when he looked at any of the other three without a burning, blazing, all-consuming love swelling in his chest.) But a relationship with only one person is a lot of work, let alone three. Logan thinks it's worth it, though. He hopes it's worth it. He desperately wants it to be worth it, he desperately wants it to work, desperately wants _them_ to work. He loves them too much to think that it won't.

Logan tries to view the whole thing logically. He tries to write schedules and plans to make sure that no one feels left out. He tries to think it out rationally, the only way he’s ever known how to think about things. They find him, in his room, and they drag him to bed, because in all his concern to make sure that no one is excluded he’s been excluding himself. 

“We’ve missed you,” Patton says, as he pulls a half-asleep Logan out of his desk chair. Logan sags against his chest, and Patton’s strong arms wrap under his armpits and hold him up. “You’re so worried about someone feeling left out, Lolo, but you’re leaving _yourself_ out.” 

He feels gentle hands all over his body, pulling off his shoes and socks and undoing his belt and sliding his dress pants off. Patton carefully turns him so that someone (Virgil, he thinks, judging by the abundance of purple in his blurring vision) can unknot his tie. 

“Don’ - don’ jus’ throw it on th’ground,” he mumbles. “Y’gotta -”  
  
“Don’t worry, Logan,” Roman murmurs. “We’ll fold your stuff and hang it up and whatnot.” Patton helps Virgil manhandle Logan out of his polo and into a t-shirt; it’s not his, judging by the loose slide of too-big cotton as it slips down one shoulder.   
  
Roman snaps his fingers and changes the rest of them into pajamas (”Why didn’t we do that for Logan?”). Logan leans more heavily against Patton. “Okay, Logan - Roman, a little bit of help?” 

All at once there are hands sliding along his legs, tucked under his knees, wrapping around his shoulders, and then Logan is lifted into someone’s arms. Another pair of hands carefully tucks Logan’s head into the someone’s shoulder. He inhales, smelling fresh roses and cinnamon and the tang of metal, and oh, he’s in _Roman’s_ arms. 

The last thing he hears is “Your room?” in Patton’s soft voice, and then he’s out like a light. 

Logan expects to wake up sharply to his alarm, blaring dully at precisely 5:30 am. Instead, he wakes up slowly, gradually, to the warmth of sunshine spilling across his face. He blinks his eyes open, humming in displeasure and wincing away from the sun directly in his eyes and turning his head away. 

His nose brushes against something soft, and he looks down to see a head of purple hair on his chest, tickling his nose. “What?” he whispers, groggily. The head shifts, just a little, and Logan can see pale skin and faint remnants of eyeshadow as Virgil grumbles sleepily, burrowing his face further into Logan’s chest. 

Logan turns his head to his left, and there’s Patton, soft curls fanned out around him. The morning sunshine dapples his face, and Logan can see the freckles that freely litter Patton’s nose and cheeks and forehead and everywhere. Patton snuffles as he snuggles up against Logan’s shoulder, and Logan barely has to move to press a kiss to the top of his head. 

There’s a sudden noise from his right, and Logan turns his head to see Roman, snoring loudly. His mouth is open, and he’s drooling freely all over the pillows. His hair is a disastrous bedhead, and he’s tucked up against Logan’s other shoulder. Patton and Roman each have an arm draped securely over Logan and Virgil, and they’re holding hands as they hold Virgil and Logan in place. 

Logan tries to shift around, to see a clock, to figure out what time it is (because from the placement of the sun, from the fact the sun is out at all, he knows it can’t be 5:30 am), but Virgil groans and shifts slightly, draping even more of his weight over Logan. 

“You stay,” he mumbles.

“What time is it?” Logan asks. 

“Cuddle-with-your-boyfriends-who-love-you-time,” Virgil answers. Logan tries to sit up again, but Virgil worms his way further up Logan’s chest and presses slow, sleepy kisses to Logan’s throat. “Stay.” 

“Virgil, I have to -”

“You have to _relax_ ,” Virgil says. “You’ve been working so hard lately, trying to make the relationship work in the only way you know how. And that’s sweet, and we love you for it. But part of being in a relationship means actually spending time with your loved ones, you know.” 

“I’m sorry,” Logan murmurs, suddenly guilty. Virgil just keeps kissing his throat and jaw, lazy and unhurried, and Logan lets himself get lost in the soft touches. Virgil is applying just the right amount of pressure, and Logan doesn’t know if he’s leaving marks but he finds he doesn’t care much at this moment.

“Don’t be,” Virgil says, lips skimming against Logan’s neck. “We’re all learning. We’re all changing and growing, and we’re doing it together. That’s the beauty of a relationship. I’m supposed to be the anxious one, Logan, you’re the logical thinking one. Your brain is so impressive, and I love it so much, but I think you’re overthinking this.” 

“I apologize for overthinking, then,” Logan says. “You are all . . . very precious to me. I suppose I was afraid that I would make a mistake and lose you, and I do not think I could bear such a heartbreak. I am not one always one for feelings, and it - it truly frightens me, sometimes, how deeply I care for you all.” Virgil laughs, a low rumble in his chest, and Logan’s never heard a more beautiful sound in all his life. 

“You don’t need to, Lo, but I accept your apology anyway. And for what it’s worth, I know about the fear of losing those you care about. I know about being afraid to feel too much. But we’re all here because we want to be here. We’re with you because we _want_ to be with you, and we’re all willing to work at it. It’s gonna take work, I know that, but take it from the literal embodiment of anxiety - you don’t have anything to worry about.” 

“Thank you, Virgil,” Logan says, and Virgil hums in response, resuming his soft kisses. Logan, in return, lays gentle kisses in his hair, sneezing when Virgil’s hair tickles his nose. Virgil murmurs a “bless you” in between kisses, and Logan rubs his nose into Virgil’s soft hair. 

They stay there, warm and content, for a while, Patton and Roman still asleep beside them. It’s Patton who wakes up next, nose scrunching up adorably. “Lolo?” he asks, voice thick and sleepy, and Logan smiles. “G’mornin’.”

“Good morning, Patton,” Logan says. Virgil detaches from Logan to shift his head down and kiss Patton. Patton hums happily into the kiss, and when Virgil pulls away, Patton rubs his nose into Logan’s cheek. Logan turns his head, obliging Patton with a good-morning kiss. He’s sure he has morning breath, and Patton’s isn’t that great, but he’s warm and comfortable and the kiss is soft and sweet and Logan finds he doesn’t much care as he stares into Patton’s eyes. 

Thomas has brown eyes, and all of his sides do, too, but their eyes are all different. Virgil’s eyes are deep, dark, rich brown, like black coffee, like dark chocolate, to the point where you almost can’t see the pupil. When the sunlight hits them just right, however, the pupil is visible, ringed in a lighter brown. 

Logan’s eyes are a murky sort of greenish brown. He, personally, thinks that they look like brackish swamp water, but Patton assures him that they don’t look like that at all. He insists they look like the forest floor when the sun streams in through the leaves of the canopy, dappled green and brown with tiny flecks of gold. 

Patton’s eyes are warm and rich, like milk chocolate, and they’re perfect for wide, pleading, puppy-dog stares. Patton also has the longest eyelashes of all of them, and he’s very good at batting them to get what he wants - like now, for instance, when he knowingly flutters them as he begs Logan for another kiss.

(Logan obliges, of course he does. He can’t say no to any of them.)

Roman snorts ungracefully, jerkng awake, and Logan laughs a little, trying to reconcile the charming, suave, confident prince he knows with this sleepy, undignified mess in his bed. “Hmmm-huh-yeah-wha?” He focuses on Logan and smiles, slowly, and there’s the prince.

Roman’s bright caramel-brown eyes are golden now, in the sunlight, and he flops back against the pillows, shamelessly pushing his face into Logan’s shoulder and neck where the too-big t-shirt they’d put him in has slipped down to expose his skin. Roman is the most tanned of all of them, and Logan is fairly pale (although not nearly as pale as Virgil), so he enjoys the contrast of Roman’s skin against his own.

“We missed you, y’know,” he mumbles. “The cuddle puddle just isn’t the same without you.”   
  
“Cuddle puddle?” Logan snorts. “Is that what we’re calling it?” 

“Of course we are,” Virgil says. “It’s a great name. Don’t even at me.” 

“You came up with this?” 

“Who did you think did it?” 

“Patton,” Logan replies honestly. Patton giggles, and Virgil leans down to kiss him again. 

“Makes sense, but no. It was me.”   
  
“Anyway,” Roman says, “we’ve missed you, All-Time-Low-gan. I confessed to all three of you, not just Patton and Virgil. We know you were trying your best -”

“You’re a really good try-er, Logan,” Patton interrupts. 

“- but we don’t need you at your desk, making lists of what we like. What we like is you, and what we need is you in our arms.” Logan turns pink, and Roman smirks. “No response to that, Encyclopedia?” 

Logan answers Roman with a kiss, and when he pulls away, Roman is red and blushy. He’s a romantic at heart (of course he is), but whenever any of them reciprocate even the _slightest_ shred of what he shows them, he immediately becomes shy and stumbling, and Logan loves him for it. “I should probably get up soon,” he says. “I have work to do.” 

“The only work you have to do is cuddling with us,” Virgil says. “I demand it.” 

“I demand it, too,” Roman says imperiously. 

“I don’t want to demand anything,” Patton chimes in, “but that sounds really nice. Please, Logan?” 

And, well, Logan can’t say no to them. He loves them, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> come scream at me on tumblr!! // [@teacupfulofstarshine ](https://teacupfulofstarshine.tumblr.com)


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